


Forget Me Not

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis will march to his marital bed like one marches to war. But he will enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me Not

There are time that I wonder if he really despise their marriage. But with him buried so deep into me at night, it was hard thinking that his grunts were for something if not pleasure.

He makes sure to look right into my eyes, always. As if he's telling me something, talking to me with his eyes alone. Unfortunately, he moves and I'm too busy screaming in pleasure to read him out.

It was like a different Stannis that existed outside the walls of my private chambers. The Stannis that marched inside like going to war, was not the Stannis who had me in tears by sheer wildness he took me.

Or the Stannis who wouldn't touch me when I was still caring Shireen, but always guided my hands towards his manhood, demanding my attention and affection. I still remember how his much bigger hands would hold onto mine, making my fingers wrap on him, guiding my movements, my speed.

He was a weird man, an even weirder lover. He'd spend the night with me, kissing me, pulling my hips to his, slamming himself inside me, leaving bruises and bite marks on my body, and all to almost pretend I never exist the other day.

So it really take me by surprise to see him seated in my solar, in broad day light, glaring at the wall. But Stannis is still Stannis, so I just walk past him, I have only came here to pick up my book after all.

A small pull on my sleeve as I go over him is enough to make me stop. He never touches me outside the privacy of my bedroom, doesn't even look at me after a night together. Still, his hand is tugging at the lace of my sleeve, reveling the bruise he left on my wrist last night, when he held me in place.

Our eyes lock and there is no distraction this time, I see the dark lust into them, I feel his other hand on my elbow, pulling me to him. Gently this time, so unlike his normal self. No matter that we're where anyone can see, no matter that, I have better things to pay attention to.

I guess this is what having a normal marriage feels like, or not, I never asked the other women if their husband pick them up and push them against a wall in the middle of the day.

He takes no time is asking for permission, being shy or anything. My Stannis never does. And it really is an amazing sight to behold when the sun light catches his dark blue eyes, I can almost imagine myself married to a dashing knight.

But that illusion is shattered as I hear his belt being unbuckled. Stannis will never be a dashing knight, and I'll never be a blushing maid, for I like the feel of his rough hands; the way he takes me in the middle of the night; how he invades me here, in my solar, where anyone can come and see us.

I'm sure he'd stop if I asked him to, even in his wildness, he never hurt me. My Stannis cared for me in his own way, he'd never treat me like his brother treats his wife.

A push, and all the thinking is useless. He's inside me, warm and solid in me, strong and steady on me. I try hold onto his shoulders for support, but end up with my face buried in the crock of his neck, his stubs scratching my skin, I didn't care. Not now, when he's setting up a pace, a pace that hits me exactly where I like the most. There is a noise, and I know it to be his satisfied grunt, his way to be smug, he knows what he's doing to me.

One of his hands leave my legs, making me wrap them around him, bring him even deeper, too deep, it almost feels like he's hit a wall. My scream is muffed by his mouth, he wants this to continue, he doesn't want us to be found out. His now free hand wander up my body, it calms me down a bit to feel it on my stomach, between my breasts, taking my breast in his big hand, my nipple between his fingers -I wish he'd take them in his mouth, like he does sometimes.

Oh, I wanted him so much.

He's faster now, near his release, pushing me closer to mine. My husband, my Stannis, being mine, only mine. With a final moan from him, a moan that sound suspiciously like my name, I shake is his arms, I shake before I sink my nails on his back, I couldn't control it. I needed him so much, I could actually sob in his arms that moment.

Nothing has changed between them, I know that. He'll go back to being cold and distant, I'll sit myself -for my legs are in no condition of walking now- and read my book. Everything is back to normal and they won't speak of this, but now he'll feel her scratches on his back and he'll think of her at every jab of pain, just as she thinks of him when bumping her bruises.

**Author's Note:**

> Why?  
> Because fuck you, that's why.


End file.
